Re: Mariner's Inn: Jeze C/Max M
[Max gave the girl a small grin at the assertion that she would get her leather breeches; she believed it. Max held onto the past - or, the future, rather - for a decade. She wasn't likely to give up on her jeans and tanks, not anytime soon, and she didn't care to think too hard about that. She knew the basics, the why, the fact that those things reminded her of being alive. She wasn't alive now, even if she breathed and bled and did all the things living people did, and she knew it. She was on this weirdly borrowed time, something in-between, and it made her distant, and it made her cling to the relics of her life.
It was the reason she let Jeze talk to everyone on the journals. Max had thought she was ready for it, but she was wrong. She wasn't ready for all those reminders. She didn't want to befriend those people again. She didn't want it, because she didn't want what came along with it. Maybe that was cowardice, but she didn't much care.] Pockets are just as useful as corsets.
[The grin that followed was a little wider.] It does make your cleavage look impressive. [Max, she'd never had impressive cleavage. Thin, narrow, all up and down, and Ella had inherited all the curves in the family. Ella, fair haired and blue eyed, and Max had always been so jealous.
A tip of her head, acquiescing.] True. Cutting you out of this thing is the highlight of my day. [Deadpan, but the smile lingered, broadened when arms wound loose around her neck.] My step-kid, my sister, my ex-lover. [Max's hands settled low on Jeze's hips, calloused and casual.] Did you like any of them?